Short story on Amina the Freelance Photographer.

"But we are in this Nigeria together Bode, and you know I am the one taking care of Mama's hospital bills. You lied about the pay, you insulted my edits—" The bus Amina was in, shook as it hit the speed bump.

"Amina are you the only one economy is biting? Kuku carry gun, let us know you have left freelancing for robbery. Any small thing you've brought up that old woman. Will you do it for 20k or not?"

She took three deep breaths, making mental calculations on the best way to stretch what Bode was offering. "Bode keep your job and your money." She cut the call just as she heard him hiss.

Maybe she should have accepted, after all, half-bread is better than none or should she just go back to working as a salesgirl? At least that one, pay is—

"Hace! Werey! You no go comot for there?" Her thoughts were disturbed by the bus conductor, who was yelling at a man.

"I have a permit to be here! Carry this your vehicle from my canvas!"

"Canvas kor, koin koin shoe ni. No be road we dey? Bus suppose dey road, drawing suppose dey paper. Na your kind dem dey find for Yaba." The man ignored the conductor and went on to pour paint.

Amina recognized the man, he was Efmurals, a renowned muralist. She was shocked, more shocked that he would get insulted like that and ignore.

"You no talk again? I don describe you wella shey?" The bus conductor continued.

It was humbling to find out that even with Efmurals' fame he and his work still got insulted. However, he ignored it and just went on painting. How could she think about stopping photography now, when it was now obvious that insults will come even, when you are successful?

Adjusting herself in her seat, she made a promise to ignore just like Efmurals had done and continue with her work.